Mission: Grocery Haul – The Fallen Bananas Memorial

Project Code Name: OPERATION CART-STORM

Prologue: The Briefing

David “The Planner” Reynolds sat at his kitchen table, a war-room map of Supermart 3000 spread before him. Every aisle was marked with strategic objectives and potential hazards. A spreadsheet titled Grocery Acquisition & Deployment Strategy – Q1 glowed on his laptop screen.

He adjusted his earpiece. “Control, this is David. Do you read me?”

A long sigh. “Dave, it’s me. Your wife. You’re just going grocery shopping.”

“Negative, Control. This is a precision operation. I’ll report back upon mission completion.”

Phase One: The Grocery Gauntlet

David executed the plan with military efficiency.

• Bread and Dairy: Secured with no resistance.
• Frozen Foods: Avoided high-risk impulse-buy zones. Budget ice cream acquired.
• Produce Aisle: Engaged in evasive maneuvers to avoid a slow-moving cart convoy.

Within 38 minutes, he was checked out, loaded up, and en route home. A textbook success.

Or so he thought.

Phase Two: The Discovery

The moment he unloaded the groceries, his wife—Control—conducted post-mission verification.

“David… where are the bananas?”

His heart stopped. The bananas.

He scrambled through the bags. Milk? Check. Eggs? Check. Coffee? Check.

Bananas? Gone.

He staggered back. The air seemed thinner.

They were lost. Left behind. A casualty of war.

His wife folded her arms. “Go back and get them.”

David looked out the window, eyes distant. “I can’t.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

He exhaled. “They’re gone now. Their fate… is sealed.”

“David. Just go back to the store.”

But David had already turned, walking toward the backyard. A memorial had to be held.

Phase Three: The Fallen Bananas Memorial

Dressed in his darkest jacket, David stood in the backyard, a solemn expression on his face. On the patio table sat a single empty grocery bag, symbolizing the loss.

A missing man formation of fruit was arranged before him:

• Three apples, standing proud.
• A lone orange, solemn and unwavering.
• A single pear, its position slightly off-center, as if grieving.

David took a deep breath and began the eulogy.

“We gather here today to honor the bananas that never made it home. Though they were written on the list, though they were meant to stand among us… fate had other plans.”

His wife watched from the doorway, arms crossed. “You’re doing too much.”

David continued undeterred.

“They were meant for smoothies, for lunches, for quick snacks between Zoom calls. But instead… they were left behind, abandoned in Aisle 5. I carry this weight. I will not forget them.”

He saluted the missing bananas.

A moment of silence.

A slight breeze rustled the leaves. Somewhere, a car alarm went off in the distance.

His wife sighed. “Are you done?”

David exhaled, nodding. “The mission was flawed. But I will do better.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just go back to the store.”

But David had already turned away, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Some losses must be accepted.

Me getting ready to read the latest news.

So much delicious food on display, I have to hold myself back from buying too much every time.

Omg. This is so me, minus the cigarette. (Insert an edible instead.) It’s so painful that I have them delivered now.